Disclaimer:
They are not mine. I don't make profit from this.
Feedback is welcome (be kind; English is not my first language.)
Pineapples were not harmed in the writing of this story.
Part 2 "Getting the job done"
Present year, one week ago.
*
Ezra Standish entered the Four Corners PD, and instinctively took notice of everything and everybody there.
Standish made himself at home at the head detective's desk, scattering the neatly arranged folders to take a quick look at the documents.
Ezra didn't find anything interesting in them so he sat back to watch the organized chaos of the bullpen.
"Hey, Ez" greeted Buck, before he headed out of the building.
Ezra smiled and waved back at the friendly mustached detective; out of the corner of his eyes, Ezra saw that the owner of the desk was quickly approaching, and in a bad mood.
"Standish," growled the blond detective, "get out of my chair, now!"
The green eyed man smiled. "And good day to you too, Mr. Chris!" he greeted innocently.
"It's Detective Larabee to you!" growled the taller man, glaring menacingly at the psychic.
"Of course, Sir," Ezra said while slowly abandoning the chair. "You know, with a glare like that, you could have been a gunfighter in the old west with the reputation of killing your opponents without even breaking leather."
"Standish," the warning came from behind him, making Ez jump slightly.
"Chief Travis," Ezra greeted the older man.
"Come with me," the Chief of Police ordered, and gestured to his office.
Ezra was quick; he darted inside before the older man, and commandeered the Chief's chair.
Orin usually enjoyed the young man's antics; they were refreshing after having to deal with hardened criminals all day long. However, he had to maintain the image of the hardened boss so he suppressed the chuckle that was forming, turning it to a rumble.
He arched an eyebrow at the smirking man who got out of the stuffed chair and explained, "just warming it for you, Chief."
Not believing the younger man for a second, Travis took a deep breath. "Don't mess with Chris today, kid."
Ezra closed his eyes and positioned a hand at his temple. Josiah had suggested the action long ago to prevent the child from cheating while exercising his memory; now he did it unconsciously while concentrating… and consciously while faking a vision.
"Hmm, bad day at the court," Ezra said.
He didn't need to be a psychic to know that, as Larabee's most recent case had been all over the news.
"Just leave him alone. There are more important things to do," Travis said, taking an envelope from his desk. "I have good news for you."
"Really?" inquired Ezra animatedly. "Could it be a subscription to Psychic Weekly? No, wait," he exclaimed adopting his usual pose of concentration.
"I'm getting images of handcuffs, blond hair… Oh, Chief, either you have something to explain to your wife or those papers are about Chris trying to arrest me last month."
Handing him the document, Travis explained. "Those are about your probation period as a consultant and also my personal request that the mention of your childhood visit here is erased from your record. It shouldn't have been in your expedient at all since you were a minor, and not under arrest."
"Wow!" For a second or two, Ezra was wordless, he never expected the Chief to vouch for him on the old matter, but recovering quickly he tried to cover his reaction. "The thirty days are over? Time really flies when you are having fun!"
Orin wasn't sure if Ezra said it in reference to the cases he had solved or about the enjoyment the green-eyed man had while antagonizing Detective Larabee.
Fortunately for the community, the challenge that the young psychic represented had kept the blond detective focused in his work and it had reflected in the entire department solving rates.
Ezra seemed to read Travis thoughts. "Don't worry Chief, you could still call me if you need help with a case, I've been thinking about becoming a P.I."
"A private investigator?" asked the old man, surprised.
Ezra chuckled, "No, a Psychic Investigator… or maybe a PD- WGFS it means a Psychic Detective With Great Fashion Sense… I'm counting on Nathan to be my sidekick and…"
"I get the idea," interrupted Travis, having met Nathan. "But it would be better if you take these papers to the court hall and to Judge Vaughn so you don't have problems with your records before you start the business." He gestured toward the envelope in the young man's lap.
"Good thinking, Chief," Ezra said and his hand went to his temple. "I can sense Nathan getting close."
The Chief directed a surprised glance at Ezra as, through his window, Travis saw the young dark skinned man arriving at the bullpen.
Standish was sitting with his back to the window; he couldn't have seen Nathan before Orin did, could he?
Ezra grinned mischievously and refocused his gaze toward the framed picture hanging in Travis's wall where he could see the reflection of the bullpen area and where he had seen Nathan arriving.
Before his smartly dressed best friend managed to open the door, Ezra sprinted from his chair, yanked open the door, threw a "see you later, Chief" over his shoulder, and pushed Nathan all the way out of the building.
Nathan managed to stay silent until they got to the parking lot of the P.D. before turning, to face his best friend.
"I'm not moving until you tell me what was so urgent, because as you should remembers I have a job and a responsibility with the company, so I have to finish my rounds" He stated firmly.
"We're going to the court house," Ezra explained, trying to pull Nathan forward. It was a funny sight because of the body mass difference between the men; Ezra had always been shorter than his friend and his hyperactivity predisposed him toward a slim frame, while Nathan (to Ezra's despair) had grew almost as tall and muscular as Josiah.
Nathan became worried. "To the Supreme Court? What did you do this time?"
"Nathe, you worried porcupine, I didn't … well, technically I did, but it was a long time ago, and soon it will be like I never did what I didn't really do but that everybody thought I had. You get it?"
Nathan, used to Ezra's tangents, stood firmly and looked his friend right in the eye. "I told you, I'm not moving until you explain what's happening!"
"No, the requisite to get you moving was that I answer what was so urgent and I already did, so if you still don't want to go, I'll be back for you in a couple of hours," said Ezra tossing a key-ring in the air and catching it again.
Nathan recognized his key ring and instinctively he patted the pocket of his trousers, even though he already knew that it was empty.
Ezra smirked and walked towards Nathan's small car. "Come on, get into the Psych-Mobile and I'll explain on the way."
Nathan hurried after his friend. "How many times do I have to tell you, this is not the Psych-Mobile, it's the company's car and I shouldn't be using it to drive you anywhere!"
"Please Nathe, if I go on my motorcycle my hair wouldn't be at its best, and I have to look good for the judge. Remember: appearances are everything," Ezra explained, getting in the driver's seat of the car.
"You haven't worried about appearances since you were a kid," Nathan snorted.
"Wait a minute… a judge? What are you…" he trailed off as Ezra started the car.
As fast as he could, Nathan jumped in the passenger seat, securing his seatbelt.
*
In the parking lot, Detective Buck Wilmington laughed out loud having witnessed the younger men's theatrics.
He knew that the 30 days probation were close to end, and knew of Travis intention to clear Standish's file so the police department could officially hire the young psychic as a consultant.
Buck chuckled, remembering Chris's face when the Chief had told them his intentions; Ezra tended to exasperate Larabee so easily that other officers had a bet running about how long it would take before Chris shot the younger man.
The mustached man took a deep breath and thanked God for the day that the psychic had entered their lives.
Just one day before that, Buck had been ready to abandon his ten year friendship with Larabee… or kill the blond to free Chris of his misery.
Buck remembered how the months before Ezra appeared Chris had been depressed and drinking more than his share because his wife was gone.
Wilmington had tried to help Chris, but the situation at the P.D. had been ready to blow as Travis noticed the recurrent red eyes and un-kept air of Chris and sometimes Buck.
Then the miracle happened: Ezra P. Standish's presence was like a bucket of cold water on the head to the blond detective.
Now Chris got to work early each day and focused on the cases trying to solve them before the young psychic could even see the files.
The young man even helped Chris when he had a little confidence crisis without the blond detective knowing.
//Chris still tries to prove that Ezra isn't a psychic// Buck thought //but if he's a liar then how does he solve all those cases? //
In the end, it didn't matter to Buck; he just hoped that Ezra Standish, Psychic Consultant of the Four Corners´ Police Department and Nathan Jackson, his loyal (but sometimes reluctant) sidekick, stayed around for a long, long time.
*
(to be continued)
*